


Ship

by autobotscoutriella



Category: Metroid Series
Genre: Gen, Post-Metroid Prime 2, Reunions, anthropomorphized vehicles, emotions are hard, or the lack thereof in Samus's case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-04-25 09:14:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22287340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autobotscoutriella/pseuds/autobotscoutriella
Summary: Samus Aran doesn't think returning to her ship constitutes areunion.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 13
Collections: FandomWeekly (2019-2021) Writing Challenge on Dreamwidth





	Ship

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [FandomWeekly](https://fandomweekly.dreamwidth.org/287646.html) prompt "Reunion".

In the strictest sense of the word, her ship was not her _friend_, and she had always done her best to attach no emotion to it. It was just a ship, a replaceable piece of equipment like any other.

Samus Aran had known plenty of soldiers, bounty hunters, and mercenaries who did treat their vehicles as near-sentient, giving them names and pronouns, chatting away to them as if fully expecting answers. She had never gone in for that, and in most cases suspected it was the product of too much time alone, especially with individuals from highly social species.

(The irony that _she_ was technically from a highly social species wasn’t lost on her, but she reasoned that since she wasn’t entirely or even mostly human, she would of course respond to lengthy, solo deep-space missions differently than standard humans. The Chozo might not have enjoyed isolation, but they coped with it better than many species.)

She had never felt the need to talk to her ship, beyond voice-activated commands to the computer system, or even given it a name. Chozo cultural traditions encouraged giving titles to every structure, landmark, vehicle, and creature, acknowledging and mapping their place in the world, but she had never bothered to extend that to her ship. Her mentors might have disapproved, if they had known, but to her, it didn’t _matter_ the way a real home would have mattered.

At least, that was the explanation she had always given herself, when she wondered if she should name her ship, or when she watched another bounty hunter cheerfully conversing with a speeder bike. Some people needed an emotional connection to their vehicles. Samus Aran did not. That had always been the case, as far as she was concerned.

But when she made her way slowly out of Aether’s Agon Temple, her suit hiding and compensating for a slight limp brought on by bruises and burns, the sight of her ship triggered a surge of unexpected emotion.

It felt like stepping onto solid ground after too long in zero-g, like taking off her helmet and taking a deep breath of fresh air, like surfacing after spending long moments underwater. It was pure, unmitigated relief, the overwhelming sense of _coming home_.

Through battle after battle, through agonizingly long treks through treacherous territory, she had wondered if she would ever return to her ship. Now, there it was, bright and sturdy and entirely out of place among the gray Galactic Federation crates and delicate Luminoth architecture. 

Her vision blurred ever so slightly. She brushed the back of her hand across her visor to remove any moisture, and ignored the fact that the action did nothing to actually clear her eyes.

Just a ship. It was a piece of equipment. A familiar, comfortable, customized piece of equipment that would be particularly inconvenient to lose, and the closest thing she had to a dwelling, but still only a ship. There was no need for an emotional reunion with a _ship_. It was important, it was familiar, and at the end of the day that was all.

A few quick blinks cleared away any remaining blurs, and as she strode toward her ship, her head’s up display popped up a reassuring message.

** _Auto-repairs complete. Hunter-class gunship is fully operational._ **

She placed a hand on the access panel, and let it linger there for a few extra moments as the entry lift obligingly descended. The ship’s sides were still scored with smoke stains from its rough entry, and the viewports had fogged ever so slightly from the recent shift in atmosphere, but both of those things could be fixed. The viewports would clear as soon as she resynchronized her suit with the onboard computer, and the smoke stains could wait until she reached the nearest Galactic Federation outpost. If the Ing had found her ship, they had not managed to do any permanent damage.

That was a good thing. _Not_ because it mattered to the ship, which it didn’t, but because she was ready to leave Aether, and further repairs would have required a delay.

And, she had to admit to herself, because seeing her ship damaged would have _hurt._ After the week she’d had, coming back to realize that the Ing had destroyed or taken yet another thing would have hit home in a way she didn’t care to think about.

It was _good_ to be back with her ship. It was a relief. She wasn’t quite sure why, or what had triggered the emotions, but they were there all the same.

And if she leaned against the ship for just a little longer than necessary, and gave it a slight pat before stepping onto the lift—well, no one was around to see it.


End file.
